


Memories of a Mask

by OurLadyMuffin



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Pining, Sexual Tension, Smut, Somewhat historical anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25530379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OurLadyMuffin/pseuds/OurLadyMuffin
Summary: “If-” He says, the single syllable enough to freeze her in place. He’s still looking at her. His gaze, shrouded in shadows, seems so soft.“If it isn’t too bold, will you grant me one dance, before the night’s end?” His words are gentle, quiet in a way that Tifa feels like he’s reached up to caress her cheek, even though his hands are still at his side.Masquerade ball, vaguely historical AU. A stranger in a wolf's mask steps into the ballroom and Tifa wonders why he feels so familiar.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Comments: 73
Kudos: 261





	Memories of a Mask

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thank you to [mayelisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayelisa) for being with me on this story, from inception through to the end. She's an author I admire greatly, and has been a blessing as a sounding board, beta, and friend. I highly recommend checking out her work. 
> 
> Equally massive thanks to [Vie_Boheme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vie_Boheme/) as well, for being an amazing beta and catching (honestly too many) mistakes. She writes the cutest, fluffiest cloti - so if that's your thing, also recommend stopping by place and reading her work! 
> 
> Anyways, I haven't written an AU in...a decade now, I'd say. And I've never written a slow burn before. So, I really hope this sticks the landing. 
> 
> Please enjoy! <3

Her eyes snag on linen blond hair. 

He’s tall and broad. Dressed in the formal Shinra military uniform. Black waistcoat sweeping back at a narrow waist, grey lapels accented with red, and a crisp, white cravat at the throat. Dark, fitted pants dips into tall leather boots. On his face is an onyx wolf’s mask, glinting in the light. Spiky locks drop between the wolf’s triangular ears. Its snout extends out just over his nose. Below that, his mouth is pressed into a thin line. 

Even behind the mask, he looks uncomfortable. 

“My.” A voice snaps her out of her thoughts. Tifa blinks, turning to look at the woman beside her. She’s a petite thing, with warm chestnut hair and a soft yellow mask. A similarly coloured lily blooms at her temple, its petals drifting down the slope of her cheek. Behind it, green eyes glimmer as they fixate on the two new arrivals. The blonde one with a wolf’s mask, and the raven haired one with a hound’s mask, decorated with gold and blue swirls. “I would tell you to look, but here you are - already staring.” 

Tifa can hear the amusement in Aerith’s voice. She only shakes her head. “Surely you cannot blame me. They stand out too much.” She glances around the room, with the tall white pillars and gleaming, golden floors. Everyone else is dressed in bright shades of colour. The military black commands attention against this backdrop. 

“Oh, I’m not blaming you,” Aerith replies in a light chime, “I’m quite happy to stare on your behalf, if you won’t do it yourself.” 

Tifa looks back to her friend who, as she’d said, still has her eyes on the two soldiers. She bites back a sigh, but can’t help the way her gaze drifts back across the hall anyways. She peers between the swirling couples that separate them. The blond hair. It strikes something familiar deep in her chest. Something so old that she’d all but forgotten about it. Something so dusty that it fogs the vision of her mind’s eye. 

“Shall we ask them to a dance?” 

For the second time in as many minutes, Tifa’s eyes snap to Aerith. “What?” She grips the half-empty glass of burgundy wine a little tighter in her fingers. “You can’t be serious.”

“I will take the hound. You can have the wolf, for all your staring.” Aerith smiles. Tifa can see her fluttering her eyelashes, despite the mask perched on her dainty nose. 

Behind her own, she wonders what Aerith might see. Horror, maybe. A flush of colour, maybe. But that, at least, isn’t visible. Tifa’s mask is ivory with silvery accents that swirl around her eyes. A pair of large white feathers sit at her temple, curling and resting against her hair. Like an angel, Aerith had said earlier that evening. 

“That’s…” 

“Improper? _Please_ . This is a masquerade ball. The whole point of one such thing is for a night of anonymity.” Aerith finally turns to her with a smile. She steps in closer, leaning in with a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. “ _Anyone_ here may be the hostess, the Duchess of Cetra herself! Nobody will suspect me in particular.”

Tifa resists the urge to frown. In some ways, Aerith is right. She’s in a dusty rose-pink gown, adorned with white lace and a squared neckline that sits modestly at her collar. Her hair is pulled back into a long braid down her back, with flowers embedded between the coiled locks while a silky white ribbon lays against the back of her head. As far as dresses went, this is certainly far less flashy compared to some of the other women around them. Besides...it _is_ Aerith’s birthday.

Growing up as a duchess, Aerith never had very much freedom. This was supposed to be one of those rare nights where she would be allowed to let go. 

Tifa sighs. “Alright, but you ought to at least introduce yourself first.” Unlike Aerith, Tifa’s dressed in a darker, mazarine blue gown with a sweeping neckline. She’s wearing her hair done up, dark locks pulled into a braid that wraps around the back of her head while the rest are looped in a bun just above the nape of her neck. Her bangs sweep across her forehead, loose tendrils tickle her collar. Aerith had been in charge of Tifa’s clothing today, and had insisted they go the extra mile. Tifa had just gone along with it to appease her friend.

“Now, why are you speaking in ‘you’ and ‘yourself’? What you mean to say is ‘we’ and ‘ourselves’. You should take advantage of this opportunity to let go too.” Aerith’s smile widens. She leans back, turning to look over at the crowds again. They’re still standing on the sidelines, beside the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. The ballroom is full of people chattering, laughing - glasses clink as the immaculately dressed staff weave through the partygoers, offering out drinks on polished trays. In the corner, a band is busy filling the air with music. Her eyes are scanning the crowd, but it doesn’t take long for her to pick out the pair of men clad in black. 

“Lucky us - here they come,” Aerith says, once again yanking Tifa’s attention upwards. Sure enough, the two figures are approaching. Though, it looks a lot more like the hound is dragging the wolf along. 

The hound smiles broadly and without restraint. “Good evening ladies,” he says, with a short bow while Tifa and Aerith both curtsy in response. “Enjoying the night?” 

“Certainly, sir,” Aerith replies with a breezy smile as she straightens up. “What an honour it is, to have Shinra’s brave men attend this ball.” 

Tifa hazards a glance. The wolf is standing diagonal to her, in front of Aerith while she is in front of the hound. Her gaze flickers up higher. Their eyes meet. Something in her chest leaps.

“You flatter us, miss,” the hound chuckles, lifting a hand up in a short wave. His hair is dark and slicked back in what seemed to be a barely contained mess. “Normally, I would be happy to introduce my friend and myself, but that would defeat the purpose of these, ah-” He motions to the thing perched on his face. His eyes are a bright, _bright_ blue behind it. “-masks.” 

Aerith giggles. “Indeed, but it is still a pleasure making both your acquaintances. I do hope that you will stay for, at least, a dance or two…?”

Tifa manages to drop her eyes away first. She takes a sip of her wine, perhaps a little too hurriedly. Did the wolf look away? She isn’t sure. She’d been the first to break eye contact.

Somehow, the hound smiles wider. “Of course. We did not come here just to watch,” he says before tipping forward a bit and holding a hand out to Aerith, the other tucked behind his back. “In fact, would you do me the honours, miss?” 

An unwitting flash of panic sears in her chest. Tifa swallows back a sharp breath. She isn’t usually like this. She can handle herself just fine, thank you. She always has. And she doesn’t want to stop Aerith’s fun but- 

She resists the urge to look across at the wolf, who still has yet to say a word this whole time. Instead, she looks over at Aerith, who takes the hound’s hand and gives her a playful sidelong glance. The Duchess doesn’t need to say anything for Tifa to know precisely what she’s thinking. _The wolf’s all yours_. Tifa wants to flee.

She watches as Aerith and the hound step away, then step close together andmelt into the swirling crowd in the centre of the ballroom. Despite the music and chatter hanging in the air, Tifa thinks that the silence between her and the remaining Shinra soldier is going to suffocate her. So she takes another wary sip of her wine, just to have something to do.

“Are...Are you from around here, miss?” 

Tifa nearly starts. Her eyes dart up to the soldier beside her. He’d stepped aside to make room for his friend to depart earlier, but that’s leaving him standing properly beside her. His eyes are partially shrouded by shadows, thanks to the mask. But even still, she can see the dark blue of them. His voice had been quiet. Low and smooth in a way that makes her breath catch.

It’s a second before she remembers that he’d asked a question.

“I live here, yes., she replies, glancing down at her glass - which is getting dangerously close to being drained. “But I suppose I wouldn’t say I’m _from_ here. I grew up in Nibelheim - if you have heard of it. My father owned some property there.” And now that small plot of land, along with the store, was hers. 

The wolf hums. “I know of Nibelheim. It’s a nice place.” 

“Yes.” Tifa isn’t sure she agrees entirely. Nibelheim is complicated. The town is chock full of memories that she wants to keep and wants to forget. It’d been why Aerith had insisted that she move out to Midgar instead. A change of pace, or something like that. But Tifa doesn’t know what to make of his tone. It had sounded like he was familiar with Nibelheim in some shape or form.

Realizing that she’s letting another heavy beat of silence pass, Tifa straightens up and takes a breath. She’s being ridiculous. Even if she’s only a minor baroness, it did not mean that she should forget her manners. “I imagine you must have seen quite a bit of the continent yourself, being a soldier. Have you been in Midgar long?”

“For a while. Shinra likes to keep a small platoon of men in Midgar,” he explains, hands clasped neatly in front of himself. Tifa’s eyes trace the long lines of his arms before quickly darting back up to his face. 

She blinks. “Ah, yes. I have heard of that. The SOLDIER unit, correct?” His eyes are averted. He’s looking into the crowd, but she sees him nod. Tifa hums a bit. The name has always struck her as curiously redundant. It also strummed something else deep in her chest. That same, dusty feeling from before starts to drift back up. “That is quite an accomplishment from what I understand. I knew someone who wanted to join SOLDIER, once. He did mention that it is rather difficult.” She drops her eyes down to her glass again, so she misses the way his jaw clenches a bit and the way he turns his head just so to look at her out of the corner of his eye. 

“Really? I might know him, if you will tell me his name,” he offers, speaking in a way that strikes her as...suddenly very _careful_. 

Tifa barely has the time to furrow her brow before she’s interrupted. 

“Ah- there you are!” Tifa turns her head, immediately spotting her friend as she marches over towards them. Tifa recognizes Yuffie’s gait and posture. The younger girl is wearing a black mask with white lace and long, silky ribbons. She’s clutching the skirts of her warm green gown as she scurries over, eyes narrowed slightly behind the mask. “You will not escape me this time, Lady Lockhart! I shall see you wi-” 

“ _Miss_ !” Tifa all but hisses, wincing when Yuffie all but _belts_ her name out loud. Even if Tifa doesn’t have as much to lose as Aerith with such a reveal, it still defeats the whole purpose of a masquerade ball if everyone in the room knows of her. Glancing up, she sees a couple of the partygoers around them pause to look over at the commotion. _Lady Lockhart_. The spinster. A single woman of her age, holding onto her father’s estate, who is somehow friends with the Duchess of Cetra, who operates a business as though she were a man...it is a name that often invites scandalized whispers.

Not that Tifa cares too much. She’s happy with her situation, spinster or not. But...She resists the urge to glance back at the wolf, though she’s halfway certain she can feel his gaze on her back. How much of Midgar gossip does a soldier know? Tifa isn’t sure. She doesn’t dare ask.

Instead, she levels a glare at her friend. 

Yuffie, at least, has the decency to cover up her mouth. “Oh, I apologize.” she says as she draws to a stop. Her eyes dart briefly behind Tifa, to the soldier still standing behind her. “Pardon me, I hope I was not interrupting.”

Tifa resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Did you need me for something?” she asks.

If Yuffie notices that Tifa hadn’t disagreed with her, she certainly doesn’t show it. Instead, she lights up with a smile. “Yes, in fact. I was hoping to introduce you to someone,” she says, stepping up to take a hold of Tifa’s free hand with both of hers. “Come now, he’s a wonderful fellow. I’m sure you will get along _splendidly.”_

Tifa bites back a sigh. This isn’t the first time she’s meant to get along _splendidly_ with one of Yuffie’s acquaintances. But Tifa hates to disappoint her friend. So she turns to the soldier she’d been chatting with and dips down slightly. “Pardon me, sir. I hope you enjoy the rest of the party.” she says, looking up to find that...he’s staring at her. 

It takes a second for him to respond. He blinks at them before straightening up. The wolf nods his head, but his eyes never once leave hers. 

“It was a pleasure meeting you...miss,” he says. Tifa is about to leave it at that and let Yuffie drag her away, but she pauses as he goes on a little hurriedly. “If-” He says, the single syllable enough to freeze her in place. He’s still looking at her. His gaze, shrouded in shadows, seems so soft. 

“If it isn’t too bold, will you grant me one dance, before the night’s end?” His words are gentle, quiet in a way that Tifa feels like he’s reached up to caress her cheek, even though his hands are still at his side. The look in his eyes steals her breath away. 

“O-Of course,” she manages to reply in a somewhat timely manner. Tifa swallows a bit, suddenly acutely aware of Yuffie’s eyes on her. She can’t see, and it’s partially hidden behind the mask, but the younger woman’s eyes are wide. “It should not be too difficult to find you in this crowd,” Tifa can’t help but add anyways, glancing pointedly at his blond spikes.

Beneath the mask, the wolf’s lips curl into a slight smile. “I should hope not.” 

Tifa waits because it looks like he wants to say something more. But instead, she watches as his teeth catch ever so briefly at his lower lip. Her stomach flips. No more words come. So she steps back a bit, bumping slightly into Yuffie. “Then, please excuse me, sir,” she says, somehow throwing on a quick, polite smile before she wrenches her eyes away from his and turns. 

This time, it’s Tifa that pulls Yuffie away.

“What was _that_ ?” Yuffie asks, the moment they’re out of earshot. She grips Tifa’s hands tighter, leaning into her arm, turning big doe brown eyes up at her. “Who was _he_?” 

“Yuffie, you keep forgetting that this is a masquerade ball. I don’t _know_ who he is. That’s the whole _point,_ ” Tifa replies. It isn’t until they’re halfway across the ballroom that she realizes her heart is thudding in her chest. Her mouth is dry. Tentatively, she swipes her tongue across her lips. The image of the way his lower lip caught on his teeth, for that tiny moment, is still vivid in her mind.

Yuffie makes a sound like one of awed realization. “I _did_ interrupt something.”

“I didn’t say that you didn’t.” 

“Tifa! You should have told me to leave!” It’s Yuffie’s turn to hiss, her fingers dig into Tifa’s forearm now. “Tall, in uniform, handsome...ha! Did you see his hair? Did he even try to tame that?”

Tifa realizes that she’s been walking quite hurriedly in the direction of nowhere. So she slows and fixes Yuffie with as exasperated a look as she can. “Who was it that you wanted me to meet?” 

“Well, truthfully, now I _am_ considering saying that it is that soldier back there-”

“ _Yuffie_.” 

The younger woman sighs. “Alright, fine,” she says before straightening up and casting her eyes about. “He should not be far.” 

While Yuffie searches for this man in question, Tifa downs the last of her wine. She flags a nearby staff member and sets her empty glass on the silvery tray. She had been hoping to pass the night quietly drinking and watching the other partygoers but...it is starting to seem like this night is going to be longer than she’d expected. 

“Let’s not make him wait then,” Tifa says, letting Yuffie tug her along. 

Tifa doesn’t see the wolf continuing to stare after her, even as they melt into the crowd. 

* * *

The man Yuffie introduces her to is perfectly fine. He’s dressed sharply enough, in a dark green waistcoat and matching bottoms, along with a crimson mask. They slip into a group dance and chat as they move. It’s all just perfectly _fine_. 

The whole time, Tifa is distracted. Her attention steers particularly towards a man in black, with blond hair that just draws her eye again and again. She notices that he stays lingering at the edges of the ballroom. That he only speaks when spoken to - for the most part. That he’s uncomfortable in his uniform, with how much he fidgets with his cravat. Most distracting of all is the fact that _their eyes keep meeting_.

Their eyes catch again as Tifa steps in a slow spin, one arm raised and gently holding onto her partner’s hand. Of course, from this distance, and with the mask on, she can’t be sure that they keep looking at each other. But he’s, at least, faced in her direction. And every time...it’s like a little prickle creeps down the back of her neck. 

She turns back around to face her partner, but the feeling remains. 

Her partner gives her a half smile though. “Is something wrong?” he asks. His voice is easy and rough around the edges, but not unpleasant. “You seem distracted, miss.” 

“Hm? Am I?” she says, then pauses as her partner takes his turn to spin next. His movements are practiced as he steps in time with the jovial music. 

“Yes,” he replies once he’s facing her again. She lifts her other hand up, and lets him take both her hands in his - but only very gently, and only by the fingers. He gives an easygoing sort of chuckle. “I may not be the sharpest man, but I do have eyes. You and that Shinra fellow with the wolf mask have been watching each other this whole time.” 

Tifa feels her cheeks flare. Suddenly, she’s grateful for the mask covering more than half her face. “That’s quite a bold observation, sir,” she says. Their conversation pauses as they lift their hands up, and spin around slowly together. 

“Oh please, just call me Biggs,” Her partner says with a smile once they’re face to face again. “There’s not so much to my name that warrants a _sir_.” He lifts his hand. Tifa follows his lead and turns around again. 

The wolf has a glass of wine now. 

Maybe she _is_ staring too much.

Tifa turns back to see that Biggs is still smiling, easy as ever. “I hope I did not offend, miss. It wasn't my intention,” he says. Behind his mask, Tifa can see it when his attention flickers briefly behind her. “Though, I can’t blame you. The Shinra uniform is fairly...unique.” 

She barely bites back a laugh. “You mean to say that he stands out like a sore thumb?” 

Biggs looks back at her and cracks a wider grin. “Your words, not mine, miss.” 

This time, Tifa does chuckle. “Ah, but you agree with me. So that would make you just as guilty.” They step apart, but not very far. With practiced footwork, they move in a circle, spiraling around one another, hands tucked away. Around them, the other couples do the same, but everyone is careful to remain within their own circle of the dance floor. 

Biggs laughs. “Aye, I’ve been had,” he says, breaking the rules of the dance a moment to lift his hands up in a gesture of surrender. He’s quick to drop his hands back down though as they spin again and reverse direction. The dance is ending soon. Tifa lifts a hand for him to take. They step in closer again and she spins one last time, before Biggs steps back, stretching his hand out. He bows at the waist as the music slows to a stop. 

Once they let go to applaud the other dancers around them, he straightens up with another easy smile. “It was a pleasure, miss,” he says, before letting his smile turn a little cheekier. “Now, don’t let me keep you from the one you truly want,” he adds with a laugh. 

Tifa feels her face explode with heat again. But she tamps down her embarrassment and gives a huff instead. The audacity of this man! “Have a good evening, _sir_ ,” she replies, earning another grin from Biggs. She curtsies as he bows, then watches as he turns away. 

Tifa turns too, but immediately finds herself face to face with Aerith’s wide grin. 

“That was no wolf,” Aerith remarks simply, almost innocently. Before anything can be said, she’s looping her hand on Tifa’s arm and pulling her off to the side. Tifa bites back a little noise of protest. It feels like she’s been dragged around a lot today - or, at least, more than usual. “I thought you had your eyes on the wolf? Who was that fine fellow, hm?”

“A friend of Yuffie’s,” Tifa replies simply, feeling her cheeks warm again at the mention of the blond man with the wolf’s mask. Gods, her staring must have been painfully obvious, if so many people seemed to be picking up on it. “A-Anyways, what happened to your hound? Did he dance well?”

“Like an overexcited puppy!” Aerith replies with a giggle. “His steps were fair enough, but I think he grew too impatient of the tempo. Did you not see? I was dizzy with how much he insisted on spinning,” she goes on, passing a waiter carrying a tray filled with gleaming glasses of white wine. Aerith swipes one up without looking. She turns to Tifa with a raised brow. “Though I don’t suppose you saw much of anything else, except for that wolf of yours.”

Tifa huffs, shooting her friend with a small look of her own. “And you had the time to notice? Here I thought your puppy was too busy making you dizzy.” 

Aerith gasps, pulling her hand away just so she could slap Tifa’s arm lightly. “That’s borderline scandalous, miss.” 

Tifa smiles. “For repeating your own words?” 

“Mmm,” Aerith hums as she sips her wine. She tips the glass back down just enough to smile up at Tifa. Green eyes glitter behind the soft yellow of her mask.“Yes.” 

Tifa laughs as they draw up to one of the seats tucked along the sides of the ballroom. It sounds like another dance is starting again as the two women sit themselves onto the cushioned bench. While Aerith sips her wine, Tifa’s eyes trail out across the crowd. Despite the change in vantage point, the change in position, the shuffle of people, the tide of the crowd...despite it all, her gaze is almost immediately drawn to a tuft of linen blond hair. 

It looks like the wolf has finally made his way onto the dance floor. It’s another group dance this time - not too dissimilar for the one that she and Aerith just finished. His back is to her, and he’s on the far side of the dance floor so, really, Tifa only manages to snatch small glimpses through the gaps between the other patrons. Even so, it’s enough for her to see that his back is broad, and that his steps are careful and measured as the dance begins. Something about the way he looks from behind makes that dusty feeling in her chest flutter again. It’s like she’s peering through foggy glass. If only she could see what’s on the other side. Then maybe she might know what it is about this strange man that feels so…

...Familiar? 

Tifa continues to watch. She can just barely make out his partner - a woman with a silky, easy smile and a lacy red mask. Her chestnut hair is pulled into a tall ponytail, red ribbons fluttering with her movements. 

A pang of something in her chest. It crawls up her throat and sits at the back of it uncomfortably. She swallows. The feeling subsides but does not disappear. Her eyes remain on the wolf and the pretty, red-masked lady. They circle around each other, but just as the wolf is turning to face Tifa’s direction, another dancing couple steps into view and obscures everything.

Tifa blinks. She draws a little breath, drops her eyes away as she exhales carefully. She’s unaware of Aerith watching her this whole time, sipping quietly on wine. She doesn’t notice anything until Aerith speaks up.

“This isn’t a normal affixation, is it?” 

“What?” Tifa glances upwards briefly. The wolf is still obscured. She turns to Aerith next, her hands folded neatly on her lap. Aerith’s expression is contemplative. Worried, almost. Tifa manages a smile. She doesn’t want Aerith worrying on the night of her birthday - not over something as vague and silly as this. “Have you had too much to drink already?” she asks, attempting a tease.

Aerith doesn’t buy any of it. The expression persists. “That wolf. Do you... _know_ him, by any chance?” she asks. When Tifa opens her mouth, then closes it again, then presses it into a thin line, Aerith leans in closer. “So, you _do_?”

Tifa shakes her head slowly. “No, I don’t. Or...or at least, I’m half certain that I don’t,”she admits. Lifting her head, Tifa tilts it slightly to the side as she looks out again and catches a momentary glimpse of the wolf’s back as his partner twirls beneath his hand. She cracks a wry smile. “Perhaps unsurprisingly, the masks are doing a good job of fulfilling their duties.”

“Hmm,” Aerith sips her wine again. She follows Tifa’s gaze across the way. “You’ve not mentioned knowing someone in SOLDIER before,” she says, tilting to the side to rest her shoulder against Tifa’s. 

“Well-” Tifa begins to say, then pauses, hesitating. “I don’t know if I do, truthfully. I knew someone who only _wished_ to join SOLDIER, but even that was such a long time ago.” She laughs a little, but there isn’t much humour in it. “We were but children then.” 

“Mhm? And did this ‘someone’ happen to have blond hair too?” 

Tifa glances at her friend from the corner of her eye. “Many people have blond hair.” 

Aerith doesn’t miss a beat. “Blue eyes?”

Tifa looks down at the ground in front of them. “Blond hair and blue eyes is a common combination.” 

“He does seem to be around your age.”

“So are many others here.” 

“I mean - perhaps the fact that he keeps staring back at you might mean something.” 

Tifa’s eyes dart up. 

Sure enough, through a slim window of space between a few other patrons, she catches the wolf facing her direction this time. He isn’t looking down at his partner in front of him. He’s looking across. His head is tilted slightly, as though he’s trying to peer through that crack in the wall that separates them. She still can’t see where he’s looking exactly - not from this distance, not from behind that mask, not in this low light. But her chest clenches and her breath catches anyways.

Prickling heat drips down the nape of her neck.

Aerith bumps her shoulder, just as that sliver of space closes and they’re cut off again. Tifa looks away, thumbs brushing over the backs of each other repeatedly. “Why don’t you ask him for his name? Surely, you don’t plan to let this opportunity slip.” 

“What would be the point of a mask, if I did that?” Tifa counters, earning a sharper elbow to the side and a short huff from her friend.

“And since when were you so bothered by pointless rules?” Tifa can hear Aerith roll her eyes. “These excuses will get you nothing but a one-way trip to regret.”

Tifa sighs quietly, but says nothing more. Mostly because she knows Aerith is right. Even still, it’s awkward and hard and so much has changed since they were children. Part of her worries that maybe _too much_ has changed. And if she’s wrong? Could she handle that disappointment?

Either way, it isn’t long before the song begins winding down and Aerith pushes up onto her feet. “Well-” the disguised Duchess says, tossing a cheeky sort of smile down at Tifa over her shoulder. “Pardon me, miss. But I shall be off to find my hound.” 

Tifa can’t help but laugh slightly at that. “Alright, be good now,” she says, a teasing quirk to her lips. Aerith’s only response is a smile and wave. Tifa watches her friend go, until she slips into the crowd and disappears from sight. Left alone now, she sighs, sitting back a little and casting her eyes back out idly. The music has since died. There’s nothing but the din of chatter around her now. The dance floor in the middle of the room is emptied as couples disperse. 

It’s empty. Except her eyes immediately snag on linen blond hair. 

The wolf approaches. Black amongst golds and blues and magentas. Like a shadow beneath a rainbow. He cuts a striking figure. Tifa forgets to breathe. She forgets to look away. 

He crosses the distance. Part of her thinks she can almost hear his steps echo against the marble floors. 

Before she realizes it, Tifa finds herself on her feet just as he comes within a few paces of her. The wolf looks like he catches himself just in time. He stops suddenly, standing only a scant two or three paces away. Their eyes lock. Carmine meets the night sky. 

It’s a second before he dips forward - almost jerking down into a bow. He holds a hand up to her, palm upwards, fingers curled slightly. “...You promised me a dance,” he says so lowly that it’s almost a wonder that Tifa hears him at all. 

It’s another second before Tifa finds her voice. “I suppose...I suppose I did.” 

He doesn’t say anything more - just stays there, hand outstretched. 

Tifa lifts her own up. Slowly, a little warily. Afraid. Why is she afraid? She reaches up. The pads of her fingertips brush over his. They skim down his fingers. His hand is calloused. Hardened and rough, right down to his palm where her fingertips come to a stop. His hand shifts slightly to the side, until his fingers curl slightly over her own - until he’s got a proper grip on her now. Only then does he straighten up.

It isn’t until their eyes meet again does Tifa realize that she’d been holding her breath. Are people watching? Had it looked as slow and deliberate as it’d felt? She isn’t sure and, honestly, can’t be bothered to care right now. The music is starting up again in a slow swell. If Tifa would glance over, she’d see one of the men that made up the musicians in the corner of the room nod in response to something a smiling Duchess of Cetra had said. But Tifa doesn’t notice, because she’s too busy letting her wolf guide her back out onto the floor.

Wait - _her_ wolf? 

Maybe it felt that way, because of how he was holding her hand. Gripping it like he was afraid to let go, even though his grasp isn’t particularly tight. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at her, even from behind that mask. The way he’s stepping backwards, so assured that the crowds would part around him, that nothing was going to break this contact until, finally, they break free onto the emptied floor and their hands slip free of each other.

It isn’t empty for long though, as a few couples are already beginning to take up the space. Tifa recognizes the song, and immediately feels her heart skip as she realizes what _kind_ of dance accompanies such a song. Did he know? Did he plan this? No, he’d been too busy before this - there could be no way. Was this just some sort of coincidence? But how could it be _cruel_?

“Are you alright?” His voice snaps her out of her thoughts. He’s standing closer now, hardly a foot away. This time, she hears his words without any problems despite how quietly he speaks. Still, there’s genuine worry in the soft spoken words. It strikes a louder chord in her chest - one that rings and echoes, even as the music swells louder. 

_“Are you alright?” He crouches down at her side, dirt stained cheek and all. There are scratches on the forearm of the hand he holds out to her. “Tifa?” His eyes are wide with worry. Blue and dark and flecked with green like-_

-like the pair that are fixed on her now. 

This close, she can see them, behind the shadow of the mask. 

“Yes, sorry, I was just...trying to remember how to dance to this particular song,” she says, even though her chest feels like it might cave in on itself with the weight of the question...or, rather, the weight of the _name_ that sits in the space between them.

“We can always wait for a song that you recognize, miss,” the wolf says, “I-I apologize, I should not have asked you to a dance before we even knew of the song…”

“No, no it’s fine.” This time, she responds quickly, guilt flickering briefly in her chest. She’s being ridiculous. She still doesn’t know who might be behind the mask - it could very well just be a strange coincidence. And if it were, then it would be ill mannered of her to treat this poor stranger so. “I believe I recall this song now. Though, I should be the one to apologize in advance, as I expect I might step on your feet,” she says, trying for a smile as she lifts her arms up.

The wolf fixes her with a look for a moment like he isn’t entirely convinced. But he lets go quick enough and nods. “I am certain you are being too humble,” he says, as he reaches a hand up towards one of hers. His fingertips skim the underside of her forearm, trailing down the length. Even through the thin fabric of her sleeve, Tifa can feel their heat whisper on her skin. She swallows, just as he grasps her hand again. 

The wolf steps closer still, his other hand moving up to just behind her shoulder blades. Her arm rests against his own as her hand finds purchase on his shoulder. The weight of his hand against her back - the heat and press of it, even through the fabric - it draws her closer, until only a sliver of space remains between them. He smells of leather and wind. Tifa doesn’t dare to meet his gaze.

Instead, she looks down the length of their arms, to where their hands are linked. She feels the largeness of his hand grasped around hers. Tifa takes a breath...and then, they begin to move. One step. Two. Cautious and careful. The wolf guides as gently as he speaks. Tifa follows along as they step, and step, and turn in time to the music. 

After another step-step-turn pattern, Tifa finally manages to turn her head just a bit, enough to glance up and catch his eye. The wolf is watching her. He doesn’t say anything, but she feels it anyways when he tugs her just that little bit closer, their fronts nearly brushing. The air between them is so thick they may as well be touching. 

The wolf turns sharper, Tifa steps around him easily. The skirts of her dress swirl. Their legs brush for the briefest moments as her skirts flow around him. Before they can flutter back down, the wolf turns again and Tifa lets the momentum carry her. She grips his hand tighter as his finger curls closer around hers. She can hear his breath as they come to a sharper stop. Dimly, she’s aware of the other couples around them doing the same. 

Their entwined hands lift up, then let go. Tifa turns as the wolf steps around behind her. His hand catches her waist, his chest skims her back. She lowers her hand down as the wolf reaches up, his hands glide along the length of her arm, stopping to cradle her wrist. They turn again, his front to her back, his breath skimming the exposed slant of her neck. 

As the turn is about to go full circle, Tifa steps around, twirling away from him. His hand leaves her waist and, just as she’s about to step out of reach, they catch her by her finger tips. Tifa turns her head towards him. Their eyes meet as their fingers hook together in an insistent press of skin on skin. He tugs. She steps in. His hand drops down, catching her waist, and pulls her in just as Tifa returns to him.

He steps forward an inch too much. Her momentum carries her half an inch too far. Tifa presses into his chest - that slight push enough to knock the wind out of her. 

Fronts flush. Her chin tilts up. He dips down. Their lips part, scant inches away. She can feel his breath skimming hers, the heady heat and thickness of the sensation prickling her skin. 

Wind sweeps past her ears. 

For a heartbeat, Tifa feels the sensation of falling as she’s tipped backwards. But she lets herself fall, because she can feel his hand on her waist - the warmth of it sturdy and firm. So Tifa arches her back. She can’t see him, but she can feel the wolf bend to accommodate her weight. His breath skims the arched curve of her neck, hot and sticky.

His fingers start pressing firmer into her back. Without missing a beat, she clutches his shoulder and pulls herself upright. Her breaths come in short puffs as they slide back into position in perfect harmony, their feet dance and brush around each other in that step-step-turn pattern again. This time, their eyes lock and don’t let go. She can see it. The blue of them. The green that glimmers around his pupils. Mostly, she sees the softness behind them. 

It’s like someone’s swiped a hand over the dust, leaving a clear trail in its wake. 

_Cloud._

She catches the corners of his lips quirk.

One step. Two. Turn and he lets go. In one fluid motion, the wolf moves in front of her and bows at the waist, just as her skirts swirl around her legs. He holds her hand delicately in his, lifting it up to his face as the music - Gods, she’s only just remembered that they’re supposed to be dancing to _music_ \- fades away. 

She realizes this is the end. Her chest is rising and falling visibly from the exertion of it all. Only then does she notice that they’re one in a dozen couples standing in a circle on the floor. But her attention is quick to drop down to the man kneeled in front of her. Now that it’s over, she knows he’s supposed to touch her knuckles to his forehead.

Instead, she feels his breath skim the back of her hand. Instead, she feels his lips brush across the ridge of her knuckles. 

Instead, she feels him murmur, “ _Tifa_.”

Applause fills the hall. 

He lets go and straightens up. Numbly, Tifa manages a curtsy in response. She rises up again, lifting her eyes back up and catching the very ghost of a smile on his lips. “Too humble, as I said,” he remarks simply, before nodding to something behind her, “I believe your friends are eager for your company, however.” 

Tifa blinks, glancing back over her shoulder to see Yuffie and Aerith both standing at the edge of the dancefloor. Yuffie’s hands are clasped together, practically buzzing in place. “I see,” Tifa says lamely, turning back to the wolf.

He gives her a slight smile. “Don’t let me get in the way. Thank you for the dance, miss.” He dips his head a bit, before turning and stepping away. 

Tifa stands, dumbstruck, unsure if any of that...really happened. She doesn’t quite stop staring at the wolf - Cloud’s? - retreating back, even as two pairs of hands grab onto her arms. 

“Tifa, _heavens_ -” Yuffie gasps from her left, leaning heavily against her side. “That was...That was…!” 

“Did you ask his name?” Aerith is on her right. She’s gripping Tifa’s arm, as she pulls them all back out from the floor before it can fill up again. “ _Please_ tell me you asked for his name.” 

Tifa sees the wolf - or Cloud, or just the wolf, or Gods, she doesn’t know anymore - join up with the man with the hound’s mask again. She sees him receive a solid clap on the back from the hound, and then the crowd closes up and the pair disappear from sight. She blinks, only just realizing that she’s been dragged all the way back to the far wall, right by the windows. Aerith and Yuffie are both looking at her, the former a little worried, the latter with stars in her eyes. 

“P-Pardon me?” 

Yuffie erupts into giggles as Aerith shakes her head. “His name, silly,” Aerith says, her hands on her hips. “Did you ask him for his name?” 

“No, I didn’t - I was, I mean, I suppose…” Tifa trails off, before finally shaking her head. “I don’t know.” 

“Well, I certainly don’t blame you for getting distracted,” Yuffie all but snickers. She looks up as a waiter passes by, and eagerly snatches up two tall flutes of bubbly white liquid. “ _Everyone_ was staring. Here. Drink.” 

Tifa takes the glass that’s practically shoved into her hands. “Staring?” she repeats a little dumbly, lifting the glass up to gulp down its contents in as ladylike a manner as she can manage. 

“You two were certainly the most - ah - _passionate_ of the couples,” Aerith explains, amusement tinkling in her voice. 

“He looked like he was about to devour you whole!” Yuffie laughs, earning a sharp slap on the arm from Aerith as the younger woman’s outburst draws a few glances. 

Meanwhile, Tifa feels like her face might explode. Her body is still hot from the dance. Yuffie’s and Aerith’s observations were like throwing buckets of coal into a furnace. “No, he would never. Cloud was never-”

“ _Cloud_?” Aerith interrupts in a hushed whisper and a big grin. She leans in closer, reaching up to take the freshly emptied glass out of Tifa’s hand. “So you did ask his name?”

“No, I just- He was a friend from when I was younger. I think-”

“Gods! That wolf is your childhood lover?!” Tifa wants to smack Yuffie upside the head. 

“No! Friends. Just friends. A-And, I’m still not sure. It might not be him.” 

“Cloud. What an unusual name that is,” Aerith muses idly as she straightens up, free hand reaching up to tap her chin. “I wonder what is his family name?” 

_Strife_ . Tifa clamps her mouth shut. If either Aerith or Yuffie find out about that, she’s certain she’ll never hear the end of it. Cloud Strife. _Tifa Strife_.

Suddenly, the ballroom feels altogether too stifling. 

“I think I need some fresh air,” Tifa says, already beginning to step back before either one of her friends can reach out and halt her escape. She lifts a hand up in a short wave. “Just a quick breather out front. That dance really took quite a toll.” 

Yuffie looks like she’s about to protest, but stops short as Aerith reaches up to grab the younger woman’s arm. The Duchess smiles sweetly - almost a little too sweetly. Tifa isn’t sure if she’s noticed something, or is up to something. Or both. “It _is_ rather hot in here. Go on, I shall look after our dear lady here,” she says, giving Yuffie’s arm a squeeze.

Tifa nods. Maybe something fishy is going on, but for now, she really does just need to get outside to clear her head some. “I will be back soon,” she says, before turning to start making her way towards the grandiose white-and-gold doors at the front of the hall.

“Take your time!” Aerith calls after her. 

It doesn’t take long to reach the doors. By now, Tifa’s gotten used to swerving in and around the crowds fairly efficiently. The two uniformed men at the door nod as they see her, bowing slightly as they push the doors open just enough to allow one person to fit through. Tifa thanks them with a quick curtsy, then hurries past the doors and out into the night.

Right away, just the cool air feels heavenly against the heat lingering on her skin. Tifa breathes a heavy sigh of relief as she steps farther out onto the stone porch. Tall pillars line the far edge of the porch, which eventually drops down to steps that lead into the front yard with its immaculately kept garden and stone fountain in the middle of it all. 

Deciding that the fountain would be a nice place to sit and catch her breath, Tifa moves over towards the other side of the porch. But as she approaches one of the round pillars, she freezes. 

At the foot of the steps, looking up at the fountain, awash in moonlight...is the wolf. 

Tifa hesitates by the pillar. She isn’t sure if she wants to move forward or back - if it’s curiosity and hope pushing her forward, or fear of disappointment tugging her back. Before she can make up her mind, the wolf turns his head and their gazes snag. Her heart jumps up into her throat. 

Her feet move before her mind catches up. This time, it’s the wolf watching her as she descends the steps. She still can’t tell what he’s thinking. Out here, with nothing but the ghost white glow of the full moon overhead, it’s even harder to read his expression behind that pesky mask. But she can tell, for certain, that he’s watching her. She can feel it in that curious sensation of heat that prickles her skin - can see it in the way his head turns slightly as she arrives at the foot of the steps, and then as she moves forward some more, until she’s standing a couple paces beside him.

Only then does Tifa tear her eyes away to look idly up at the stone fountain, and the elegantly carved column in the middle, each tier unfurling outwards like stone petals. The sound of trickling water fills the thick silence between them. 

Tifa’s head is practically steaming with effort as she tries, desperately, to scrounge together _something_ to say. She doesn’t dare look his way, to see if he’s still watching her or what. She clasps her hands in front of herself, the thumb of one hand rubbing restlessly over the back of the other. The silence drags. Finally, she swallows and opens her mouth. 

“Are yo-”

“Did yo-”

Tifa snaps her mouth shut, turning to look over at the wolf. She manages a quick smile. “A-After you, sir,” she says a little hurriedly, cursing herself for her bad sense of timing.

“No, no, after you,” he replies just as quickly, shaking his head and lifting a hand up to motion her onwards. “I insist.” 

Tifa averts her eyes a moment. “I was just about to ask if you were looking for a break from the party too?” she asks, glancing back at him in time to see quirk a slight smile.

“‘Too’?” 

Tifa feels her face warm, despite the cool night. Was he teasing her? “Well - yes. I was looking for some fresh air for myself. The ballroom can become awfully stuffy, with so many people.” 

“Likewise, then,” he replies simply, before turning his head away from her. This time, his chin tilts up as he looks up to the sky. It’s a cloudy night, but the moon’s bright enough to pierce through the clouds. There’s a bit of a breeze that drifts past. She traces his profile with her eyes, from the way his hair falls over his temples, down to the sharp angles of his jaw. 

Her memory of Cloud is foggy. There’s a lot about this man that reminds her of that boy from her past, but there’s a lot that’s different too. She remembers a boy with linen blond hair and dark blue eyes who lived in town, with his mother, in a small room above the general store her father kept. She remembers playing on dusty streets, or sneaking away to explore the wild lands around Nibelheim, or sitting on the front porch licking the sugary coating off of sugar plums. 

She remembers sneaking out at night, climbing up the water tower in the middle of town - the rickety wood and cool night breeze. The way the moonlight catches in his hair now is the same as the starlight back then. She remembers quiet words. She remembers hoping for something that never came. Instead, in its wake, she remembers loneliness as - one by one - people leave her life and don’t come back.

Cloud had just been the first. 

“Did you enjoy the dance, miss?” Tifa blinks. She watches as he turns to her again, head tilted slightly. 

“The dance-?” she repeats dumbly, under her breath, before quickly catching herself. “Oh! Yes, of course. You were, ah, very skilled, sir,” she replies hurriedly, unable to help dropping her eyes away. 

The wolf hums, “Thank you.” 

Silence hangs between them again. Tifa fidgets beneath the weight of it. And then, just as she’s starting to think that maybe she ought to save herself from the awkward tension, she hears him draw a little breath.

“...You said my name, earlier.” He says in an exhale. 

Her heart stops. Her attention leaps up to him. He’s looking at the fountain. For a long beat, Tifa can’t remember how to breathe. Actually, she can’t remember to do much of anything else except watch as the wolf reaches up and slowly tugs his mask up and off. He pauses a moment with the mask in his hand, before turning his head to look across at her. His face is sharper than before, the angles of it more pronounced with age. But it’s all there. Everything she remembered is still there. 

“...Cloud?” The name feels strange as it slips free in a breath - dusty, but familiar.

“Tifa,” he replies, cracking a slight smile as he shifts on his feet, turning to face her more properly. “It’s been a while, huh?” 

She steps up a little closer. Even if she’s guessed it earlier, the surprise of it all still leaves her feeling winded. How many years has it been, since he left Nibelheim with a promise to become someone worthy? Six? Seven? Too many. Reaching up, she unties the ribbon holding her mask to her face, and slips it off as well, just as she draws to a stop a couple feet from him. 

“When...How-?” Suddenly, there are so many questions she wants to ask that she doesn’t know where to start. For years she’d waited in Nibelheim for him to come back to visit, like he’d said he would. All the while, she’d scour the papers, afraid but unable to help herself as she checked the list of fallen soldiers. And each time she’d come up empty, she’d be allowed a moment’s respite from the _not knowing_. She’d waited and waited, until eventually, people started to leave. Her friends started marrying out of Nibelheim. And then her father grew ill and passed, leaving the estate to her. 

Aerith had been a blessing, to have convinced her to leave that place where she’d been drowning in memories. And now...And now…? 

“Why?” she asks finally, clutching onto her mask a little tighter. “Why didn’t you visit like you said? Why didn’t you write?”

Pain flickered across Cloud’s expression. “I could not. The path to SOLDIER was too demanding, I did not have the chance,” he explained, “I was planning to take a trip to Nibelheim soon, since I have more authority over my time now. I just - I never expected to find you here.” 

Tifa isn’t sure what she’s feeling. There’s still so much to process that it’s making her chest ache. Of course, she’s relieved that he’s alright and standing before her in the flesh. But she’s also _upset_ that he’s standing there, after years of silence, and after that...after that dance-!

Her face erupts with heat as she recalls the dance. _He looked like he was about to devour you whole!_ Yuffie’s voice rings in her head, loud enough that Tifa can feel her whole body flush with embarrassed heat and something else that’s altogether unfamiliar. But not wholly...unpleasant, either.

“Gods.” She reaches her free hand up, looking off to the side a moment as she cups her cheek. “This is...I’m glad to see that you are doing well, Cloud. But this is just - just quite the surprise.” 

Out the corner of her eye, she sees Cloud nod. “I know. I was caught off guard too, when your friend addressed you as Lady Lockhart. I’d suspected earlier but to have it confirmed…?” he said, pausing only a moment before giving a low, breathy chuckle. “Do you often dance with other men like that?” 

“No!” Tifa’s response is swift and aghast. She wants to bury her face in her hands, and is halfway to doing so, if not for the mask she has to hold onto. Cloud only raises a brow in response, which seems to stoke the flames that lick at her cheeks. “I’m surprised myself too, you know. Besides, if you had already known by then who I was - why did you not say so?” 

“I didn’t have the time,” he says with a small shrug that’s equal parts maddening and adorable. After all these years, the way he shrugs and smiles and laughs is still the same. “And I do believe that I did, at the very end, before your friends came.” 

“That-! That doesn’t count, sir. If anybody knew how you deviated from the dance, that would have made for quite the scandal!” 

Cloud’s smirk stretches a little wider. “My apologies, Lady Lockhart.” 

The way he says her name like that, coupled with the memory of the feeling of his lips on her knuckles, the murmur he’d left on her skin...It’s almost too much. She slides her hand to the side, cupping her cheek as she looks up at him, knowing that her face is flushed pink and that there’s nothing she can do about it now. “Well, I suppose it’d be awful of me to reject your apology after so long,” she says.

Cloud hums and takes a small step forward. “So I am forgiven?” he asks, making her breath catch in her throat as his gaze fixes on hers and doesn’t let go. “Despite having risked a scandal?”

She swallows. “Yes, you are forgiven.” 

“That was easier than I expected, truthfully.” He takes another little step closer still. Tifa notices all this, but she doesn’t move. Her feet are rooted to the ground. And even if they weren’t, she realizes that she doesn’t _want_ to move. 

“I don’t think anybody noticed in the end anyways.” Despite her best efforts, she can’t find her normal voice anymore - it’s all she can do to speak at all, however quietly, when he’s standing practically right in front of her. They aren’t pressed close like they’d been during the dance. But it’s still enough that she can feel his presence like it’s something palpable. 

“Really? I take it that you enjoyed the whole affair, then?” Cloud goes on lowly. Out of instinct, she draws her lower lip into her mouth, teeth catching at it a moment before slipping free. She sees his eyes flicker. They drop down to her lips a moment - his tongue swipes over his own - before his gaze flits back up again. Tifa forces herself to take a little breath. 

“Did you not?” she asks, tilting her chin up slightly. His eyes follow her fingers as they press against her cheek, then glide down the curve of her jaw as she drops her hand away. 

Cloud tilts his head, leans in a little closer, until she can feel his breath skirting her lips again. “I believe I asked the question first, Lady Lockhart.” 

Her heart is pounding in her ears. It’s a miracle that she can hear him above the racket. Her fingers curl tighter around the mask. “I would think a SOLDIER such as yourself would have discerned the answer by now, without me having to spell it out.” Her head is spinning. His eyes have dropped down to her lips completely now. He’s close enough that wisps of his blond hair tickle her forehead. 

“Perhaps I want to hear it said.” 

“Then...yes, of course I enjoyed it.” Her eyes drop halfway shut. 

“Me too,” he breathes, tipping in further and-

“Where _is_ she?”

Yuffie’s voice snaps Tifa back to reality. “I know you said you saw the both of them leave, but it’s been too long. What if something awful’s happened?” 

“Yuffie, I’m sure it’s alright. Tifa can take care of herself.” Aerith sounds exasperated.

Cloud jerks back. Tifa immediately turns towards the front doors. She can hear her friends, but she can’t see either of them yet. It wouldn’t be long though, before they come stepping up from behind the columns and catch sight of them. 

Tifa acts before she thinks. Reaching up, she grabs Cloud’s hand. She sees his eyes widen in surprise, but all she does is lift a finger up to her lips. He catches her meaning easily and nods. Hearing footsteps begin shuffling across the stone steps, Tifa turns and hurriedly pulls him along with her as she runs off to the side of the building. 

It’s been a long time since they’ve run hand-in-hand like this. Usually, it was to get away from the other kids in a game of tag. Once, it’d been because she’d tripped and scraped her knees, so Cloud had held her hand as she cried while they walked home. But this was different. They’re older now. Her heart is still pounding from that near - Gods, she can hardly dare to put a name to what they’d _almost_ done, had Yuffie not interrupted. For now, Tifa tries not to think about that as they duck around the side of the building, where the Chocobo stables were tucked neatly away, a couple of Aerith’s carriages lined up against the wall. 

Tifa slows to a stop once they’re safely out of sight. Her chest is rising and falling as she catches her breath, her back against the wall just behind an empty carriage. Cloud comes to a stop in front of her. Naturally, he isn’t out of breath in the slightest. His eyes are bright, almost gleaming even in the dark. His lips are tugged in a slight smile. “Were they not your friends?” he asks in a voice that let her know that he already knew the answer to that. 

“Yes but if they’d seen - seen, uh - well, I just didn’t want to answer so many questions,” she replies with a little huff. Tifa pauses, leaning to the side a bit to risk a quick glance around the corner. Sure enough, she sees two figures only just making their way down the steps. Yuffie is ahead of Aerith, hands on her hips, looking around. 

Tifa pulls back. “Lucky for us, I think we managed to get away.” 

“You were always quite good at Hide and Seek,” Cloud hums. Tifa turns to look up at him, only just realizing that he’s still standing close - likely, by virtue of the fact that she’s still holding onto his hand. But with her back to the wall, Cloud’s presence suddenly feels like a physical weight on her chest. The pressure makes her heart thrum. 

Tifa lets go of his hand. “I suppose some things never change,” she breathes. 

Cloud cracks a smile. But before anything more can be said, he blinks and stiffens. The smile drops from his expression as quick as a whip. His eyes dart up, head turning to look down the line of carriages, towards the stables. Without warning, he steps in closer, one hand lifting up to brace his forearm against the wall beside her head, the other still holding onto his mask. 

She forgets how to breathe again as he leans in closer, his fist curled loosely just above her head. Carmine eyes are wide with confusion, her body paralyzed with heat. Tifa clutches her mask in both hands, holding the thing in the tiny fragment of space between them. Cloud glances back at her, lifts a finger up and presses it to his own lips this time. The gesture alone - this close to her face - makes Tifa’s head steam. She nods numbly, watching his expression as he glances back again. He looks completely and utterly serious. As though a switch had gone off somewhere, and this was the man that had fought his way into SOLDIER. Yet, there was still something familiar and boyish in the set of his brow, and the sharp focus of his eyes. 

A moment later, she hears distant voices over the drumming of her heart. Stable hands talking about sneaking a glass of wine from the kitchen, once they finished up tending to the chocobos in the stalls. They sound pretty near. They tuck into the shadows behind the carriage, Cloud’s dark uniform blending into the night better than even the dark blue of her gown. Tifa is hardly paying attention to the stable hands though. She’s too busy listening to the steady cadence of Cloud’s breath - too busy _feeling_ it as it skirts the shell of her ear and sends shivers down her spine. She’s half convinced that he doesn’t have to be this close at all, but Tifa doesn’t care if it’s unnecessary. She keeps her hands gripped onto her mask, even though she wants nothing more than to reach up and tug on his cravat, so she can pull him closer still. 

Overhead, thicker clouds slip over the sky, covering the moon up entirely. The breeze continues to swirl with energy. Cloud dips down. Tifa swallows back a truly improper noise as he brings his lips right near her ear. He isn’t touching her at all, save for a few stray locks of hair as they brush against the side of her head. 

“Maybe we ought to go somewhere else,” he whispers, his words tickling her ear and making something in her gut clench and coil. Tifa swallows thickly. “Too many people here.”

“But where?” 

“Anywhere.” He pulls his head back just enough to look down at her, their foreheads nearly brushing. Tifa’s almost light headed from how little she’s been breathing, so she forces herself to inhale. But that only fills her head with the scent of leather and wind. “We can borrow a carriage.” 

“Th-that’s theft.” 

“Not if we bring it back.” He smirks then shrugs and leans a little more against his arm propped beside his head. “Besides, surely your Duchess friend would not mind you borrowing a carriage for an hour or two.” 

Her eyes widen. “How did you know?”

“My companion - the hound - told me. The Duchess is not the most subtle, and we are trained to notice these things,” he explains nonchalantly. “But that is beside the point, no? Was I wrong to say that your friend would not be crossed if we borrowed a carriage?”

“I-” Tifa presses her lips in a thin line and glances off to the side. It isn’t like there’s any real consequence to Aerith’s identity being uncovered. The masks and anonymity had mostly just been for the fun of it all anyways. The worst thing that could happen would be for Aerith to get a little more unwanted attention from vying men, but perhaps, if she’s so taken to that hound, then she ought to be alright. Her eyes flicker back to Cloud. “I still do not know why we must leave in the first place.”

Cloud raises a brow. “Why run from your friends at all?” he asks, tilting his head a bit. Tifa thinks that she can’t hear the voices anymore, but Cloud isn’t pulling away. In fact, he leans in closer still. “Why explore the Nibelheim cliffs? Why steal extra sugar plums from your Father and eat them behind the inn?” His smirk widens slightly. “Have the years finally tamed you, _Lady Lockhart_?”

This time, the heat that flushes her face is one of embarrassed indignation. He’s teasing her! Not only that, but he’s doing it while leaned in so close, with a devilish smirk that’s just plain unfair. She bites her lower lip, watching how that simple motion drags his eyes down a moment before they flicker back up again. “You are infuriating.” 

He chuckles so lowly it’s an amused rumble. “Are you surprised?”

“No,” she says before finally relenting, because honestly, the prospect of taking a prolonged break from the pompery of the ball is too enticing not to give up. “We best hurry then, if we are to do this.” 

“Why of course.” Cloud pauses, looking down at her, still leaned in close. But instead of pulling away, Tifa watches with slowly widening eyes as he dips in closer. Her breath shudders as his skims her lips for the third time that night. “I would hate to disappoint,” he murmurs, lids dropping down slightly. Tifa can’t look away, even if her legs suddenly feel like they’ll give out from beneath her.

Cloud moves in closer. Tifa’s eyes flutter most of the way shut. Closer. Closer. She holds her breath, parts her lips just slightly.

He turns his head and plants a soft kiss on her cheek instead. 

The contact still sends warmth crawling down her back. But - Gods - he was teasing her! Her heart leaps and aches all at once. _More._ One hand reaches up, halfway to grabbing him before she stops herself. _More_. But he’s already pulling back with a smirk. 

“Let’s go.”

Tifa wants to push him into the dirt.

Instead, she scowls as Cloud straightens up and steps back. “I don’t suppose you know how to harness up a chocobo?” she asks as she straightens up, watching as Cloud turns to peek around from behind the carriage. 

At her question, he huffs and shoots her with a brief, narrowed look over his shoulder. “Surely you don’t think that Shinra would allow their first class of SOLDIERS to be so stupid?” he quips, though there’s no real bite to his words. “Yes, I know how to handle a chocobo,” he replies anyways, before stepping out from behind the carriage, looking like he’d determined that the coast was clear. Cloud motions for her to follow. “I’ll help you up into the carriage before I fetch the bird.”

Tifa purses her lips. “I can manage getting into the carriage myself,” she says, feeling a little haughty after all the teasing he’d done. Nonetheless, she follows him as he steps around the back of the carriage, watching as he opens up the wooden rails and lets it swing open. The carriage is deep maroon, with gold-yellow accents and heavy pink drapes pulled across its windows and openings. 

“I know,” Cloud replies without hesitation as he props the rails open and turns to look back at her, holding one hand out towards her. “I want to help anyway.”

He says it with such simple, earnest conviction that, for a moment, Tifa can only stare at him. It’s a familiar feeling. It’s like they’re back in Nibelheim as children, and he’s offering to help pull her up a particularly tall rock, or they’re playing a game of chase with the other kids and he’s telling her to run while he plays the distraction. Always the gentleman. Always the hero. 

Her heart flutters.

“If it will make you feel better,” she acquiesces finally, stepping up and resting her hand on his. 

He smiles, curling his fingers over hers. “It does, actually,” he replies as Tifa moves up the steps. He doesn’t let go until she’s slipping past the curtains. Only then does he let her hand slip free, his fingers brushing along her palm. “Hang on to this for me, I’ll be back soon,” he says, holding his mask up with his free hand.

It’s just a simple hand hold but, Gods, after everything - that’s all it takes to make her heart skip a beat again. Tifa doesn’t say anything, and just takes his mask as she steps the rest of the way into the carriage, letting the curtains fall shut behind her. 

The space inside is cramped, especially with how much room her skirts take up. The seats are covered in the same deep maroon colour, though they are plush and velvet. The golden accents continue inside, though there are two glass windows - one behind her, and the other in front of her. Both are covered with the same drapes. Tifa sits back against the plush seat with a soft huff. She sets both Cloud’s and her own masks down on the seat beside her. Reaching up, she cups her cheeks, feeling the spot where he’d left a kiss flaring with heat. Now that there’s nothing but silence and her own thoughts, Tifa’s wondering _what in Gods’ names is she doing?_

It’s Cloud. She hasn’t seen him for the better half of a decade now. The moment he shows up, it’s like she’s forgotten all decorum, all propriety. All she can think about is him - how good he feels, how much she wants to be closer, wants to know more. There’s so many things she wants to ask, but they’ve been so caught up in the whirlwind of the ball, and then of the reveal, and then of almost getting caught and whatever _this_ is, that they haven’t had _time_.

Tifa nearly jumps when she hears the sound of activity from the front of the carriage. Leaning over, she peeks through a crack in the curtains and is relieved to see that it’s just Cloud, getting a fairly calm looking Chocobo harnessed to the carriage. She watches through the opening as he works, handling the Chocobo gently as he adjusts all the straps and clasps. Standing right next to the giant bird, Tifa can’t help but smile, eyes flickering between the bird as that head of linen blond hair.

Of course, she says nothing about it. She only continues to watch, until Cloud looks over his shoulder and, somehow, seems to catch her eye through even that slim crack between the curtains. 

Tifa jerks away. She sits back in her seat, feeling her face explode with heat at the possibility of having been caught staring. She isn’t sure if he saw. She’s fairly certain he did, but there’s no way of telling. All she can do is sit in silence, listening as Cloud climbs up onto the driver’s seat just on the other side of the drapes. 

“Are you ready, Lady Lockhart?” he asks smoothly, sounding surprisingly close. 

Tifa hazards a glance up. She can see him through the same crack in the curtains. There’s really not much space dividing them. The drapes feel flimsy. “Don’t call me that,” she says, watching his back. “It’s too odd, coming from you.”

His chuckle is warm and low. Nonetheless, he takes her response as a ‘yes’ and urges the Chocobo forward. The carriage jerks into motion. If anybody notices their escape, Tifa doesn’t hear anything about it. There’s only the sound of the wooden wheels as they trundle over the nealy paved paths of the Duchess’ estate. 

“It shouldn’t be odd. I should have been calling you that, even as kids,” Cloud replies nonchalantly. 

Tifa sits up and reaches across the way to push the curtains aside on the windows. They’re on the long, tree-lined path leading out of the estate’s grounds. Through the glass, she can see the shadows of thick trunks and branches pass. “No, you were a friend - not a servant. It would have been odd even then,” she replies, sitting back once the window is clear for her to look through. But Tifa finds herself trying to snatch a glimpse of Cloud anyways. “In any case, I’ve not enough to my name to warrant such a title.” 

Cloud huffs, the sound is a little bitter. “You’ve land and a business, that’s more than what I can say about myself.” 

Tifa frowns. Even if she has all those things to her name...what good has it done her? She’s almost certain that she would be happier being a simple barmaid at this point. The land and the business have only stirred rumours about her. Why she’s been alone this whole time. Why she’s never taken to a man. Truth be told, Tifa doesn’t know why. It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying either. But none of the men she’d tried to court had ever made her feel…

Her eyes slide over to the curtains at her side. Never made her feel the way Cloud had. The way he does, even now. 

Her stomach flips at that quiet admission.

“You’ve a title now - one that’s likely more important than mine,” she points out instead, hands in her lap, eyes tracing the broad width of his back (or however much of it she can see). “An elite SOLDIER is an admirable profession.”

Cloud is silent a moment before he speaks. “Shinra dogs would be the more accurate term for us,” he replies a little quieter. “No, I’ve a long way to go before I have anything like Sir Sephiroth.” 

Tifa blinks in slight surprise. “You want to be knighted?” 

“Yes.” His reply is simple. 

“But why?” Tifa hesitates. She recalls that night at the water tower, and the quiet way Cloud had told her that he’d wanted to get into SOLDIER. She hadn’t been able to parse his tone then. All these years later, Tifa still doesn’t know what to make of his tone _now_. “I thought you wanted only to be SOLDIER.”

Again, a little pause. In the silence, Tifa reaches up and pushes the drapes separating them aside. She doesn’t open it too much, just enough to see Cloud clearer, and to see that they are past the estate and are making their way down a country road. Grassy hills drift past, rolling slowly like pelagic waves of grey caught in the shadows of the thick clouds above. The wind that pulls at the air is stronger. She can see the grass bend in response, and can hear the shuffle of leaves overhead.

“I did want to be SOLDIER,” Cloud replies, sounding like he’s choosing his words carefully. He’s facing forward, sitting relaxed atop the driver’s seat, hands resting on his thighs. She can’t quite see his face from where she’s sitting, but even just like this, the sight of him snatches her breath away. “But it was only ever just a necessary step I had to take. If I couldn’t make SOLDIER, then I couldn’t make anything else.” 

Tifa hesitates, unsure if she ought to press. The way he spoke - so softly and quietly, reminded her of the same Cloud at the water tower. This was private and intimate in a way that she hadn’t really experienced since that night. She swallows thickly, one hand still holding onto a small fistful of the curtains. The silence drags. She doesn’t want to pry, but she has to know. Because it feels like there’s something more there. Because it’s _always_ felt like there’d been something more. Last time, she’d succumbed to her fear and lived the next decade of her life wondering. Tifa refuses to let the moment pass as it did back then.

“Why, Cloud?” she asks quietly, watching the back of his head, eyes tracing the curve of his ear. “All this...just for a title?” 

“Because-” The way Cloud blurts the word catches even Tifa by surprise. She takes a sharp breath and waits. His shoulders suddenly look stiff. There’s nothing but the sound of wooden wheels rolling over dirt and of Chocobo footsteps kicking up loose rocks between them. Slowly, she sees Cloud’s shoulders drop. “...Because I want to be worthy.”

Her eyes widen. Cloud is still looking ahead. “Of what?” she asks, forcing herself to sound normal - forcing herself to not hope, to tamp down the feelings that had collected dust for all those years.

“Of...you.” 

Tifa’s throat closes up the same time the skies above growls. Her heart pounds, chest aching. The wind gusts. 

“Cloud-” she says, but her voice is swiftly swallowed up as the skies split apart, and rain drops on them like a weighty slap. 

“Shit!” Cloud tugs on the reins, prompting the Chocobo to stop. Tifa flinches away from the curtains, though heavy drops of cold water are already starting to splatter in through the opened curtains. “God damn it.” He’s still cursing, even as he guides the Chocobo off the path, towards the partial shelter of a tree a little ways ahead.

Truthfully, Tifa wants to curse too. It’s like the universe is doing all it can to interrupt, interrupt, and _interrupt_. 

The carriage rattles as it trundles off the path and onto the grass. The Chocobo coos as it stops just beneath the tree, head lifting up to consider the trembling leaves and the patter of rain. Cloud’s shoulders are already dotted with moisture. “You should stay further inside, and avoid the rain, Tifa,” he says, twisting around in his seat enough to look back at her. He reaches up to take a hold of the curtains. “And close this too, or else water will get-?!”

This time, it’s Tifa that interrupts. She doesn’t give Cloud the chance to finish his sentence before she’s reaching up, grabbing the lapel of his jacket, and yanking him in. He falls back in surprise, his words cut off by her lips as she presses them - _hard_ \- against his. 

Cloud is ramrod stiff against her. For a long moment, neither one of them moves - both, too stunned by the sudden crush of lips to do anything. Rain is still falling on them, catching in their hair, soaking into their clothes, drumming on the roof. Cloud is halfway leaned into the carriage, Tifa halfway standing out of it. 

Slowly, he relaxes, tips harder into her as he shifts his lips against hers. Tifa melts into the kiss, but her grip on him doesn’t loosen. It tightens instead. She leans back farther into the carriage as Cloud turns to follow her in. The air is thick and heady. Tifa isn’t sure if it’s that, or the unfamiliar taste of his lips, that’s making her head spin. 

Somehow, they stumble back into the cramped carriage without pulling away. Cloud is all but dragged in through the front, the curtains falling most of the way shut behind him. Tifa drops back against the cushioned seats at an angle. The masks clatter onto the floor. Lightning flashes. They break the kiss with a gasp.

Thunder growls overhead. Cloud is propped over her, one hand braced against the wall over her head as he half stands, half crouches between her legs. Tifa is halfway falling off the seat but, Gods, she hardly notices. He’s still so close. Their breaths are ragged and thick as they mingle and hang in the dense air, practically sparkling with energy. Her fists tighten around his lapel. 

“Cloud-” she husks, thinking that she can _see_ him shudder. Reaching up, Tifa clutches the side of his head. “I don’t need a knight. I don’t want one.” She swallows, looking up at him, seeing the green flecks swirl and storm in his eyes the way the clouds outside are doing the same. “I just want _you_.”

He leans in closer, pressing his forehead hard against hers. It looks like he’s gritting his teeth. Above her head, she doesn’t see the way his fists curl up into a tight ball. “I’m not - Tifa, I’m not worthy. I don’t have... _anything_. No land, no title, no money, no-” 

Tifa interrupts again. She tugs him tighter as she tilts up and catches him in another sharp kiss. Her teeth snag on his lip. She tugs on it, then lets it slip free. But Tifa doesn’t pull away very far. She stays close enough to feel her lips brush against his. “I don’t care,” she murmurs, her other hand sliding up to coil into his messy, linen blond hair. “I want _you_. I don’t care about the rest.” 

His breath shakes. The storm mounts. One of his hands finds her side, clutching onto the bodice of her dress as the other pushes up into her hair. They catch in the braids and loops. “I don’t deserve you-” He presses closer, eyes squeezing shut. “I don’t-” 

She steals his words with another hard kiss. Teeth bump, and snag on lips. “I don’t care.” The words are spoken against his lips, between hungry swipes of her tongue against his. 

“Tifa-” He groans her name like a plea, clutches her tighter, dipping down and pressing harder. “-Tifa-'' The sharp crush of their lips, her name caught in between ragged pants. “- _Tifa._ ” 

She drags him back down because she doesn’t want to hear her name spoken, she wants to feel it. Part of her screams that this is scandalous, that she shouldn’t do this, that she’s too old to be having these secret romps away from prying eyes - that Cloud wasn’t just some boy, and that she was no longer just some girl. But, Gods, he nips at her bottom lip and Tifa realizes that she really means it when she tells him that she _doesn’t care_. 

She sits up just so she can press harder into him. His hands rove down her sides to her thighs through the thick fabric of her skirts. Cloud breaks the kiss with another harsh rasp, but he doesn’t stop. Immediately, he dips down and leaves the same hard, hungry kisses against the side of her neck. 

Tifa groans, her hands tangle in his hair as he pushes and shoves her skirts up. Thunder snarls overhead. The air prickles with rain. Tifa lifts her hips as Cloud’s hands find her bare legs. “G-Gods-” She mutters, voice barely audible over the patter of rain against the roof of the carriage. Cloud nips at the crook of her neck. Tifa tilts her head, exposing more of that sweet curve of skin to him as his hands push up the length of her legs. Her dress is bunched at her waist. “You should have come back earlier-” she says thickly, swallowing back a short noise as he nips her shoulder again, then soothes it with a hot lave of his tongue. “-should have...f-found me earlier.” 

“I know, I know,” his words are pressed into her skin. Cloud grips her hips beneath her skirt. Then, without much warning, he lifts her up just enough to turn and - rather unceremoniously - drop her back onto the seat so she isn’t half falling off it anymore. The motion knocks the breath out of her. Not that she would have been able to breathe anyways, as Cloud lifts his head next and fixes her with eyes sparking like lightning in a dark storm. “I’ll make it up to you. If you will let me. I promise, Tifa. _I promise._ ” He lowers down on his knees in front of her, between her legs, behind the thick bunches of her rucked up skirt. 

She never thought she’d see Cloud on his knees in front of her quite like _this_.

She bites her lip. His attention flickers briefly, but only to drop down to watch as her kiss-swollen lip catches at her teeth, then springs free again. Tifa isn’t sure if she hears Cloud groan, or if that’s the thick rumble of thunder again. Either way, she manages a weak nod. “I expect nothing less.” 

The smile he gives her is nothing short of sinful. “Of course, Lady Lockhart,” he says, and then he’s dipping his head down. 

A gasp is wrenched out of her before Tifa can protest what he’s doing. Cloud presses a hard kiss to the soft interior of her thigh. He trails up farther. She can’t see his head over her skirts. Her hands curl into fists around bunches of fabric as he kisses up higher still. His hands find the waistband of her undergarments. Tifa lifts her hips without thinking, letting Cloud tear that last vestige of modesty right off her legs. 

As soon as the fabric falls away, he’s right back to where he was - approaching dangerously close to the apex of her legs. She feels him part his lips against her skin and, _Gods_ \- Tifa’s breath snags sharply in her throat as he draws a mouthful of soft skin into her mouth with a firm suck. She nearly pitches up into him with just that. His teeth graze her skin a moment, and then he lets go. Tifa isn’t given a moment to catch her breath before she feels Cloud kiss up higher again. 

“C-Cloud- oh-” Her voice is weak, swallowed up by the sound of rain. She can feel herself pulsing. _Aching_ for more. His hands push her legs apart wider. Tifa looks down at where his head is hidden behind and under the folds of mazarine fabric separating them. His breath skims her wet heat. His thumb brush right at the juncture of her legs and torso and then - _and then_ -

His lips find her centre and Tifa chokes back a cry. 

Her hips twitch up into his mouth as he kisses long and slow, dragging out the ecstasy of that first touch. He pulls back, only just far enough for his thumbs to push up between her folds. He spreads her apart, and then dips down again, tongue dragging up her slick core, finishing with a languide suck of her clit, wrenching a whine from her that even the storm can’t smother. 

Cloud does not relent after that. His lips latch onto her clit, drawing rasped moans from her with each sinful suck. Tifa angles her hips up into him harder in response. Her bodice suddenly feels all too tight, even though she’d specifically worn it looser for comfort’s sake. Her ample breasts threaten to spill from the low cut neckline. Tifa doesn’t care. She’s too focused looking down at Cloud even though she can’t see him. His fingers prod her entrance. Her gasp drops into a moan as he presses inwards, the same time that he laves his tongue over her clit.

She arches up into him, one eye falling shut. “Yes-!” His fingers curl up against her tight walls. They grind and grind as mercilessly as his mouth. Her head spins harder. She wonders what she tastes like, but decides it’s too late to worry about it now. Instead, Tifa lets go. She tilts her head back, letting it rest against the wall of the carriage. Pleasure wracks through her in waves that grow sharper, closer, harder. She’s trembling against him, walls rippling around his fingers. But just before she reaches that precipice, Cloud pulls back with a gasp. 

A whine of protest escapes her before she has the wherewithal to think better of it. 

Tifa can practically feel him smirk as he leaves sticky kisses against her thigh. His finger continues to grind inside her, slowing down until he pulls even that away, leaving her feeling empty and starved. 

Cloud lifts his head out from beneath her skirts, looking up at her with a self-satisfied smirk. She knows she looks a mess sitting atop the velvety cushions like this, hair half falling out, dark locks skimming against her chest as it strains against the confines of her bodice. “How was that?” he asks, voice like the rumble of the storm overhead. 

“Not enough,” she replies, reaching back to undo the ties holding her bodice together. It’s tied up tight. She yanks at it and immediately feels the garment loosen. 

“Impatient?” He straightens up, one hand sliding up along her leg as he looms over her. 

“You _are_ a few years late,” she says, reaching up to grab his cravat and pulling him down closer. 

Cloud chuckles, licking his lips as he lets her pull him down closer. “Is this not improper?” He asks in a husk, lifting his hand up with the two fingers still slick from when they’d been inside her. 

Tifa glances at his hand. Reaching up, she takes his wrist and guides his fingers up to her face. She looks up at him, wanting him to watch as she parts her lips and wraps them around his fingertips. She can taste herself on him, along with the salt of his skin as she draws the entire length of his fingers into her mouth. Cloud’s eyes flicker with lightning as he watches. She sucks on his digits, pressing her tongue up flat against them as she bobs her head slightly. Finally, on the last bob, she pulls her head back, lips dragging along his fingers until they slip free with a wet pop. 

“ _I don’t care_ ,” Tifa says. Thunder snarls.

There’s no more hesitation. No more dilly-dallying. Cloud husks a groan, dropping down to catch her in a desperate kiss. He tugs at her bodice, now loose enough that her breasts finally spill free of its confines. Cloud breaks the kiss only just so he can spare a glance downwards, biting on his lip as he reaches up to sink his hands into her pillowy breasts. His breath shakes - gaze, reverent. He doesn’t say anything, only kneads at her harder as he sweeps forward to press, hungrier, against her lips again.

Lightning flashes and growls rock the skies. She feels Cloud fumble with his own pants a moment before she feels his heat and heft pressing up broadly against her slick folds. 

Her arms snake up to wrap tight around his head, moans muffled by his lips and rain both as he grinds and _grinds_ into her. Another flash. Another crack of thunder. They part with a harsh gasp. Cloud’s mouth finds the crook of her shoulder. One hand splays out at the small of her back, pulling her up into him as he shifts, prodding at her entrance a moment before sinking forward. 

Tifa clutches his hair tight, head tilted back as she drags hard pants through parted lips. Cloud doesn’t stop until his hips are crushed against her rear and she’s suddenly full of him. Against her shoulder, Cloud groans her name,“ _Tifa-a-_ ”.

“Please, please, p-please-” Her tightness clamps harder around him. Tifa shudders, pressing her heels into his back. “ _More_.”

Cloud’s response is to draw his hips back, then plunge forward again. 

Tifa screws her eyes shut as Cloud settles into a hard, quick rhythm. She’s getting pushed and pulled into the seat. The wood shifts under them. She keens up into him, creaking cries of pleasure that’s muffled in his hair. Her ears are filled with Cloud’s ragged pants and rain on the rooftop and wind in the trees and his hips clapping against hers and thunder and thunder and then - Cloud bites her.

She gasps sharply in surprise and pain both as his teeth sinks into the smooth slope of her shoulder. Tifa clutches tighter around him, one hand pulling at his hair. “Cloud!” He digs in harder, slamming his hips down into hers to just grind firm and deep. Tifa’s spiralling. She pulls at a fistful of his hair. “Yes, harder - again- oh, _oh_ -!” 

The pain is sharp, but it makes the ecstasy visceral. It sends sparks shooting up her spine. His hand presses against her mound, a moment before his thumb finds her clit as his teeth sink deeper. 

Her hand flies up to slam against the wall behind her. She feels the sharp, cool press of glass against her palm instead of the wooden wall. Tifa hardly notices. She arches up into him with a sticky cry as heady as the air around them. 

Cloud gasps as he lets go of her shoulder to press his forehead down against the crook of it instead. His movements are sharp and erratic. “T-Tifa, I’m- Gods, I-” His words seep through gritted teeth. “I ha-have to pull out- I won’t last-”

Her legs clench around him. Tifa yanks him deeper. Cloud hisses, hips jerking forward to pin her down into the seat. “Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go…!” Her head is spinning. She can hardly find words. Maybe it’s dangerous. Maybe it’s scandalous and reckless and ridiculous and everything in between but - Gods - _she doesn’t care._

There isn’t anybody else for her. All those years of waiting and searching and trying and failing, only for her to realize now, with sharp, blazing clarity that there’s nobody else. Nobody but Cloud Strife.

Thunder cracks the sky as Tifa breaks. With no way to pull back, Cloud presses in harder instead. His hips buck into hers. Tifa clings on tighter, relishing in every groan he leaves against her skin and in every erratic pitch of his hips into hers.

Cloud coaxes her through her orgasm, continuing to grind as Tifa falls and falls. Eventually, he slows to a stop, pulling his hand away to grip the back of her head, fingers tangled in the messy dark locks. Tifa drops her hand away from the window, leaving trails in the steam and condensation that fogs the glass. She’s shaking and prickling with the residual high of her climax. Cloud kisses her shoulder, soothing over the aching mark he’s left there. 

Tifa loosens her grip on his hair to card her fingers through it instead. Turning her head, she presses a kiss against the side of his, lingering there to breathe in the scent of rain and leather. They’d not been close like this even as kids, but just holding him like this - and being held in return - feels deeply comforting in a way she hadn’t realized she’d missed.

“Are you alright?” Cloud murmurs as he turns his head, kissing and nuzzling into her neck. 

Tifa hums, “Quite alright, yes.” The carriage is cramped and stuffy. Her dress is likely a rumpled mess right now, and her back’s a little sore from the awkward position, but it’s easy to ignore all that in the slow afterglow that’s soaking into her bones. “You?” 

She feels him smile against her skin. “Well enough, I suppose.” Slowly, he lifts his head to look down at her with soft eyes. His hand slides around from her hair to the side of her face, thumb sweeping over her cheek. Tifa stares up at him, unable to breathe. 

“I missed you,” he breathes. 

“I missed you too.” She closes her eyes as he brushes a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m sorry.” 

Tifa shakes her head. “Don’t be.” 

She can sense that Cloud isn’t convinced, but he doesn’t say anything of it. Instead, he kisses her forehead again, then slowly begins to pull his hips back. They disentangle with a great deal more care than when they started all this. Eventually, Tifa gets herself dressed as Cloud tidies himself up. After all, they still have to return to the Duchess’ mansion...and it wouldn't do to show up as an unashamed mess. They rinse off the smell of sex off their hands and face as best they can with rain water. At least, the bad weather would help to explain the condition they’re in, though there’s no helping Tifa’s rumpled skirts, or Cloud’s creased cravat. 

In the midst of their passions, they’d forgotten about the poor Chocobo standing outside. But the bird is well trained, and had simply hunkered down on the grass to wait out the storm. It isn’t long after they finish cleaning up in companionable silence before the rain starts to let up, slowing to an easy drizzle instead of the rolling storm. 

Cloud thinks it's clear enough for them to start trekking back to the mansion, before either of their friends start to grow too much more concerned. Tifa agrees. While Cloud takes up his position as the driver again, Tifa makes quick work of undoing her hair completely, and tying it up as a braid that she leaves tossed over her shoulder, carefully covering up the dark mark left against her pale skin. She pushes aside the curtain between them completely, just as they begin trundling back up onto the path. Tifa leans forward on her knees and tips sideways to rest her head against Cloud’s back. 

“Will you be spending the night at the Duchess’ estate?” Cloud asks, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Rain patters lightly onto them as they move through the night. 

“Yes, why?” 

“I’ll come back tomorrow with an elixir for you for, uh-” He pauses, then glances back at her from over his shoulder a moment. “Well, I would just hate for something to happen, that you wouldn’t want to have happened.” 

Tifa chuckles. She lifts a hand up to rest it against his back. “That would be greatly appreciated.” Though, just the thought of that - of a _family_ \- makes her chest squeeze. It isn’t a thought she’s entertained in a while. Truthfully, it’s one that she’s sick of entertaining, if only because she’s heard the whispers and comments about her single status too many times. But now? The thought of it with Cloud specifically? Her face warms. 

“I’ll do it properly next time.” The easy conviction in his tone snaps Tifa out of her thoughts.

Tifa lifts her head to look up at the back of his. “Properly?” Over his shoulder, she can see the faint glow of Aerith’s mansion in the distance. So they really hadn’t gone very far at all, huh? She almost laughs at how silly their attempt to run away had been but, however silly, she can’t feel even a shred of regret about it.

“Yes, properly,” he repeats, glancing back at her again. “I’ll ask you to dinner first,” he says before cracking a smile, “and next time we do something like this, it won’t be such a scandal.” 

Tifa’s face warms some more. She bumps his back gently with her head, before letting it rest there again. “It’s only a scandal if we’re found out, you know.”

Cloud laughs. The sound is light and low, less restrained than the sparse chuckles he’s given her tonight, and far more like the one of the boy she’d loved. “Are you saying that you wish for more?” 

“Perhaps,” she replies as nonchalantly as she can, letting her hand on his back trail down the length of it, before falling away. “It was not an unpleasant experience.”

She hears his smirk. “As you wish, Lady Lockhart.”

She lifts her head to give him a small look, even if he can’t see it. They’re just about to cross back onto Aerith’s estate proper. The mansion glows brighter in the distance. “I said to not call me that,” she huffs, before sitting back farther into the carriage to pick up the masks that had, for a while, been forgotten on the floor. 

She passes Cloud’s wolf mask just as he replies, “Why not?” 

“Only unimportant people who I don’t care much for calls me by that name,” she explains as he takes the mask from her, lowering the reins just to slip it back on. “‘Tifa’ is much preferred.” 

From behind, she catches his lips quick into a smile as he slips the mask back on. “As you wish then, Tifa.” It isn’t the first time he’s spoken her name, but it’s the first time she’s heard it said that way. 

Her face flushes with more heat, but Tifa doesn’t say anything more. Instead, she slips her mask back up onto her face and adjusts her hair some more, suddenly growing increasingly paranoid of the mark on her shoulder as they drew closer to the mansion. It isn’t long after that before they arrive. The grounds are still blissfully empty, so they make quick work of tidying up the carriage and putting the Chocobo away (with some extra treats). Once that’s settled, they step out from around the building again, only to find that people are just beginning to leave now that the rain has stopped. A few are descending the steps to gather by the fountain, likely to wait for the arrival of their own personal carriages to fetch them home. 

“You!” Tifa nearly jumps out of her skin. They’d just been making their way back towards the fountain when a familiar voice pipes up from the crowd. Tifa resists the urge to wince, or to look over at Cloud, as Yuffie comes stomping over towards them. “Where on Gaia have you been?” the younger girl demands, totally ignoring Cloud as she draws up.

“Just out for a walk,” Tifa lies smoothly enough, looking up to see Aerith and the hound are approaching next. Even behind the mask, she can see the worried set to Aerith’s lips as they draw up. “We got caught by the rain, so we stopped under a tree for shelter.” That, at least, isn’t _entirely_ a lie.

“We were worried sick. Are you alright?” Aerith asks, though her eyes are quick to flit over Tifa’s form, lingering on her entirely different hairstyle. She glances over at Cloud next, before looking back to her. Tifa thinks that Aerith’s maybe already put two and two together. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replies with a smile, waving off her friends’ concerns. “In any case, it looks like we missed the rest of the ball,” she adds, turning to look back at Cloud, “You will have to forgive me, sir. I lost track of time.” 

“No need to apologize, miss. It was a very pleasurable walk after all,” he says, with a very faint lilt in his voice that makes Tifa want to push him into the dirt again.

The hound cracks a big grin. Tifa hasn’t spoken to the black-haired man very much at all, but even she can tell there’s a knowing sort of glint in his eye. “Sounds to me like we had nothing to worry about,” he says, glancing back at Aerith. 

“Indeed it does,” Aerith replies, almost a little sagely.

Yuffie remains oblivious. She huffs and crosses her arms over her chest as she looks back at Aerith and the hound. “Both of you are much too forgiving.”

Aerith only smiles and shrugs. “Come now, it has been too pleasant a night to hold grudges.” 

The hound hum and nods. “Though unfortunately for us, we must take our leave. It is a long walk back from here,” he says with his hands on his hips. Beside her, Tifa can see Cloud’s shoulders droop a bit. She bites back a smile.

“I can have a carriage arranged for you,” Aerith pipes up, “It’s an awfully long walk, and I would hate for you two to be caught in the rain should it return.” 

Tifa blinks in surprise, eyes darting back to Aerith who had just, pretty casually, revealed her identity by offering to send one of her own carriages. She glances back at the hound next, who doesn’t seem the least bit fazed. Cloud had mentioned that they’d already known of Aerith’s identity, but had the two discussed this at some point? Either way, now wasn’t the time to ask it. Yuffie didn’t seem to notice but, then again, judging from the flushed colour on the younger woman’s face, Tifa isn’t too surprised.

“Oh no! We have legs that serve us perfectly fine,” the hound laughs, lifting a hand to wave off Aerith’s concern. “Besides, a walk makes for excellent night time exercise,” he goes on, stepping over to Cloud’s side to give the blond a solid clap on the back. “Right?”

“You are certainly entitled to that opinion,” Cloud responds, hardly bothering to hide the grumble in his voice. 

The hound remains unfazed however, and only clapped Cloud on the back again. “A real jester, this one.” He grins, earning a giggle from Aerith and an amused smile from Tifa. “Either way, it was a pleasure making your acquaintances. I certainly hope to meet you all again soon, but without the masks maybe.” 

“Of course, an opportunity will arise soon, I suspect,” Aerith replies with an easy smile, though her comment is enough to make Tifa raise a brow. She has a feeling that Aerith fully intends to make good on her word. Though she wonders if the Duchess inviting a pair of military men over for company might ignite scandalous whispers, Tifa decides that she is in no position to make any comments on that. The mark on her shoulder, hidden beneath her hair, suddenly flares with heat.

“We shall look forward to it,” the hound says, before dropping down into a slight bow, pushing Cloud down along with him. “Have a good night, ladies.” 

The three women curtsy in response. “Goodnight,” they reply, more-or-less in sync.

The hound turns to leave as Tifa straightens up, but Cloud doesn’t. Instead, she’s hyper aware of the way he’s lingering and, particularly, in the way his gaze catches hers when she looks up at him. Beside her, Tifa hears Yuffie draw in a giddy little gasp as Cloud steps up. He doesn’t say anything, only reaches down to take a gentle hold of Tifa’s hand which, of course, she allows.

She stares, wide-eyed, as Cloud lifts her hand up and lowers his head down to brush a kiss against her knuckles. “Goodnight, Tifa,” he murmurs against her skin.

Tifa doesn’t even hear it when Yuffie giggles. Her eyes are still locked on his. “Goodnight, Cloud,” she says, finding that she can’t even care about revealing their names like that. Instead, she watches as he quirks a private smile. Cloud gives her hand a squeeze, before letting go. With that, he turns to catch up with the hound, who had stopped a couple paces away. There’s a couple moments of silence as Tifa watches the two SOLDIERs retreat into the night, the hound throwing an arm around Cloud’s shoulders. 

But the silence is swiftly interrupted by Yuffie’s mad giggling as she throws her arms around Tifa’s shoulders. “Oh, you must tell us what happened,” the younger woman says, leaning heavily against Tifa, the smell of wine thick on her breath. “ _Goodnight, Tifa_ \- Gods, what a gentleman.” 

Tifa tugs at her braid a little nervously. She isn’t sure that Cloud is as gentlemanly as Yuffie might be thinking. Still, her face is hot behind her mask. “Ah, w-well…” 

Aerith laughs. “So that’s your Cloud, hmm?” she hums, stepping over closer to where Yuffie is clinging onto Tifa, cheek resting on her shoulder. 

Tifa cracks a sheepish smile, reaching up to gently pry Yuffie from off of her. “Yes. We got a little carried away - uh, catching up,” she says and, technically, that isn’t a lie either...even if their ‘catching up’ hadn’t entirely been with words.

Yuffie slides off Tifa and claps her hands together. “Excellent. I want to hear every detail about this conversation. Come, come, there is still wine that demands our attention!” she says with a grin, motioning for the other two to follow as she turns and flourishes back towards the mansion. 

Tifa and Aerith follow after the younger woman, but at a far more leisurely pace. Tifa adjusts her braid as nonchalantly as she can. “Catching up, huh?” Aerith muses innocently, though something about the way the Duchess speaks makes Tifa’s heart skip a beat. She glances over at her friend, who is wearing a cheeky sort of smile on her lips. “So...which carriage requires extra cleaning, do you think?”

Tifa nearly trips. “What?” she says, trying and failing miserably to hide the flusteredness in her voice. “I don’t - I don’t know what you mean. We only talked, nothing more.”

Aerith laughs. “Right, of course, silly me.” 

They make their way up the stairs. Tifa thinks she’s off the hook.

“I shall look forward to the wedding then.” 

“ _Aerith!_ ” But the Duchess only laughs, stepping ahead as the doors open to reveal the glimmering ballroom within. With an exasperated shake of her head, Tifa pauses at the doorway to watch her friend go a moment. She looks back over her shoulder and into the night. It’s too dark to see much of anything past the fountain, but she knows he’s out there. 

She doesn’t like the sound of Lady Lockhart, but _Lady Strife_ however...Tifa cracks a smile and turns to step back into the ballroom.

That one might just grow on her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed that, feel free to[say 'hi' on my twitter!](https://twitter.com/ourladymuffin)


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